


What The Past Leaves Behind

by wolfstsrshipper



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Baltimore, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, The Nest, Violence, but to be fair the comfort in the book is like "And then he was there just watching him", but very violent, honestly theres not really comfort, lots and lots of angst, neil has a bad dream of his torcher, not gory really, okay, so thats the type of comfort, this is pretty sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfstsrshipper/pseuds/wolfstsrshipper
Summary: When The Foxes all get back to Palmetto Tower, and they all sleep in a giant group cuddle on the floor, Neil has a wretched nightmare of the past.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 141





	What The Past Leaves Behind

**Author's Note:**

> yeah. um. yes its sad. well. I tried. lots of mentions in the books. Its not worse than anything in the books, so I guess if you've read the books you know what to expect. The nightmare is just slightly more detailed then the torcher scenes, but probably not much. Still, read with caution. It is sad and heavy.

Neil had laid down in the center of the room. He hated being in the middle of the room, surrounded by several bodies. But he convinced his mind to calm down. It was only the Foxes. Andrew came and laid down next to him, curling up into the blankets. He must have seen the lingering panic in his eyes that began to dissipate, because, under the blankets, he moved his hand and gently wound his fingers with Neil’s. 

Neil relaxed just a little. It wasn’t a constricting touch, it was a soothing one. He stared at Andrew’s face until he fell asleep. 

His dreams were dark and twisted and heavy.

_ Neil was at Evermore. His hands pinned up above his hand in the metal cuffs that hid beneath the headboard. Jean held his legs down, Riko sat on his waist as he cut deeper and deeper until Neil screamed around the hand covering his mouth, barely hearing the whispered words next to his ears. “You came here willingly, you wanted this to happen. You came here willingly, this is your fault.” When he opened his eyes again, it was no longer Riko over him, but Lola. His hands were tied behind him, the same cold metal cutting into his wrist. Nathan stood behind her, laughing an insane laugh with a psychotic smile on his face, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Lola held a knife against his throat, almost hard enough to cut off his oxygen. “Say please and I’ll stop.” She growled, slowly starting to grind her hips down.  _

_ “Please...please, don’t.” He whispered, trying to squirm away.  _

_ She stared into his eyes, an evil glint in her eyes as she whispered: “Some of us don’t like that word.” Nathan just seemed to laugh longer. The knife at his throat turned to the cigarette lighter and it burned farther into his neck with each passing second. He begged and begged for her to stop, but eventually gave up. His words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All he could do was scream and whimper. Nothing he wanted would ever matter, it never would. There would always be hands weighing him down. He was trapped. There would always be someone on top of him, cutting him into millions of pieces.  _

_ “My turn, Nathaniel,” Nathan said. He was okay with dying. He just wanted it to be quick. He just wanted to stop hurting. He just wanted it all gone. _

_ Suddenly, he was on the court. His wrists were bloody and torn to the bone. He felt the blistering burn on his neck tear and rip with each move of his head. All the cuts that kept bleeding, leftover from Riko and Lola. His whole body was on fire and protested each movement. Was this what happened when your muscles collapsed? He read somewhere that when you bleed too much, your muscles created friction and collapsed. Maybe that was what was happening. Suddenly, there was a racquet in his hand. _

_ Somehow, he felt like if he could make a goal, he would win and it would be over, but as soon as he took a swing, his father was there and slashed at his side with his cleaver. He forced Neil to keep going, keep running, harder and harder. He was bleeding everywhere. He was out of breath and tired. Each step became harder to take.  _

_ If he could make it to the goal, he would be safe. The goal was safe. He didn’t know why, but if he just reached it, he was certain the pain would stop. There was a small figure standing in it. If he reached them, they would save him. He was sure of it.  _

_ He took another swing, trying to make a goal, but Nathan slashed his cleaver across his leg. He felt a terrible snap and his vision immediately began to cut out. Neil fell to the ground, and Nathan stood over him, looking down in disgust. “You always were a flight risk. Now you can’t run.” His lips pulled into a manic smile. “Say hello to my greatest disappointment.” He whispered, gripping his hair and shaking his head, several times. He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight. Riko was somewhere out of his line of sight, laughing. Nathan shaking his head until it hurt, each time becoming more vigorous and his head started to hit the floor. Then, he slammed his cleaver downward onto Neil.  _

Neil bolted up into a sitting position, swinging his arm out to the side and hitting someone. He stopped the panicked mix between a yelp and a scream in his throat, turning it to a low whine, trying to make as little noise as possible. Attention was bad. His sleep fogged brain was still lingering on the dream, he felt hands on him and the weight of someone sitting on his chest. His leg, could he walk? No, Nathan had sliced his hamstring, just like he promised. His arm and hands burned and ached at the action of him striking out, and even in the dark, he could see his vision go in and out as he stifled a groan. He was panting, and his throat was still sore. He felt the bodies around him, pressing against him. There were too many people. It was too dark. He couldn’t see. There were too many people from where he was to the door. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t run. He was hyperventilating. His whole body ached. “Neil?!” Someone asked. A hand was reaching out. He flinched away from it, stumbling to his feet, tripping over a body and falling back against the wall with a hard thud. He could walk? No, that wasn’t right. Nathan had cut his hamstrings. Lola cut into him, he was bleeding out, he was tied down. Riko was slicing him up, Jean was holding him down. He pressed himself into the wall, sliding to the side to avoid the reaching hand. “Stop, stop, don’t touch me, stop stop.” He chanted. He slid to the floor in a protective ball. Hands in his hair, knees pulled to his chest. Hands were reaching out, people were touching him, someone was sitting on him. He didn’t know what was real and what was fake. All he heard was the roaring of blood in his ears. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t run, he was tied down, his father just cut his thigh. He could never escape. “Stop, stop, don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me, stop.” His chants were muttered and under his breath, but they continued to get more distressed. The hands wouldn’t go away. The knives against his skin, cutting down wouldn’t stop. He knew asking was useless. No one ever listened. No one would stop. They would carve out what they wanted from him and leave him for dead. 

His sleep fogged brain slowly caught up when he heard his name. Neil, not Nathaniel. It sounded muffled, but he was still catching up with the fact that his dream was just that. A dream.  _ Neil _ . 

_ Neil Neil Neil _ . Someone was snapping their fingers close to his ear. With each one, he processed more. Something about Neil, about Palmetto. It repeated, but now something about Andrew, about safety. The lights were on, he noticed. It was light. He could hear what Andrew was saying now. Neil flinched at the snapping in his ear and Andrew dropped his hand. 

He was in the girl’s room. His foot was tangled in a few sheets. He saw people’s feet a yard away. He tried to force his breathing to regulate, watching Andrew’s shoulder rise and fall subtly. He guessed Andrew caught on, because suddenly the movements were exaggerated. Neil mimed him.

Once the dream had let go of its hold, and he could breathe steadily and on his own, a feeling of guilt settled in his stomach. It was a weird feeling, one he hated. He still didn’t want to look up and see concerned faces staring him down, so instead looked down at his feet. He dropped his hands from his hair and instead pressed them against his face, which was a bad decision. His breathing picked up from the pain and he remembered how close he was to never being able to use his hands again. At how many times he was locked in shackles and they bit into his wrists, at the knives that followed all the natural lines in his palm and around his fingers. 

He heard a snap next to his ear again. He knew it was Andrew, but he didn’t move his hands. He didn’t have the energy to keep his face passive. 

“Stop.” He said, only loud enough for Neil to hear. “Yes or no.” Neil nodded, very slowly, trusting Andrew to not take anything Neil couldn’t give. Suddenly, there was a hand gripping the back of his neck, a heavy and unforgiving weight. Neil couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

There was  _ a _ hand on him. Only one. It was Andrew’s.

He gritted his teeth and tugged at his hair, but only for a second. He hissed quietly and loosened his grip. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmingly ridiculous and dramatic. Andrew was right, he was a drama queen. “Sorry.” He said, loud enough for everyone to hear. He hated how weak he had looked in front of his entire team, his team that was standing a step away and staring at him. The hand on the back of his neck squeezed and became almost a painful pressure. 

“Shut up.” Andrew snapped, not letting the pressure loosen until Neil shifted slightly. Reflecting his dream, he had realized just how similar Riko’s methods had been to his fathers and Lola’s. His father never cared for torture, but the way they moved, the way they used their blades were much the same. 

“Did Riko train under The Butcher?” Neil asked, very quietly in French. He could practically feel the way Kevin flinched. 

“He...he left one time. For a month. When he came back….” Kevin stopped speaking. His voice was barely louder than his silent breathing. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” 

“I do.” Neil only just barely whispered it, and he still hadn’t looked up, but he knew Kevin flinched again. A few seconds later, the door open and closed. Neil couldn’t help the manic smile, his fingers, despite the pain, dug into his lips to wipe it off. He just watched his father kill him wearing that smile. He did not want to wear it right now. Not ever, for the record. 

Neil finally looked up at the shut door and noticed Kevin was gone. Andrew used his other hand to very gently grab Neils’s chin and force their eyes to meet. Neil saw Andrew’s buried concern, covered by careful indifference. The only reason he knew it was there was because of how his eyes had become assessing, instead of passive. It was very different than Neil’s tired and “I-give-up” eyes, where memories swam at the edges of his mind, in the corners of his eyes. Neil forced his resolve to harden and regained his composure, the constant steadiness and unwavering weight Andrew offered for him to lean on helped. 

“I’m sorry, whoever I hit.” 

“It’s okay,” Matt responded. “Are  _ you _ okay?” 

“Fine. Just a bit of a nightmare.” All his teammates were still staring, distressed concern clear in all of their eyes. 

“Neil, are you okay? You were…. _ screaming.. _ ” Nicky started. There were tears in his eyes.

“ _ Not _ . Screaming. Just…. It’s hard to explain." Allison looked possibly even more distressed than Nicky had. He knew Allison was lying, just trying to soothe things as much as possible. Usually, they didn’t get on well, but after the recent events, she had been trying to keep the conflict as little as possible, almost scared Neil would break. It was a valid concern, to be fair. Some days he felt like he would.

“Bad dream.” Neil shrugged, looking away towards Andrew. He glanced upward in a silent question. 

“Neil,” Nicky began to step forward and Neil's mind decided to play fight or flight. His shoulders began to tense, but before Nicky could begin his second step, Andrew, never looking away from Neil, snapped his fingers at him. He didn't say anything, but Nicky understood and stopped. 

Andrew didn’t grab his wrists or his hands, but he grabbed the sleeve of Neils hoodie and tugged upward. Neil followed him out of the room. “We’re getting air,” Andrew stated, closing the door behind him. He dropped Neil’s sleeve and Neil followed him all the way up to the roof. Andrew sat at the edge, letting his feet dangle. Neil mimed his position. They sat for several minutes in silence before Andrew spoke.

“You need to talk to someone.”

“I’ll be fine. I have you.” Neil was looking at him, a weirdly soft look on his face. It was annoying. Andrew poked his cheek and turned the redhead’s gaze away.

“I’m not your answer. I seem to be repeating this to you constantly, when will it get through your skull?” Andrew said, taking out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one, passing it to Neil only to light a second one for himself. 

“Maybe They gave me one to many concussions,” Neil states, watching the smoke curl into the air from his cigarette. 

“Possibly. Do you want to talk to Bee? Wymack?” Andrew looked sideways over at him, but Neil seemed to recoil at the thought. His eyes glazed over as he shook his head. “You have too many issues. Lose one or two. It’ll do wonders.”

“I could say the same about you,” Neil said as he took a drag of his cigarette, his lips curled upward around the filter. They each ran their cigarettes down to the filter, and Andrew lit two more.    
“You have to talk to someone.” 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe.” Andrew agrees, looking out over the campus.

“It was just a bad dream.”

“Shut up. Your ignorance is nauseating. You know that with people like us, dreams are based on fears and memories. Particularly the bad ones.” Andrew sounded indifferent, but Neil heard the tiredness and anger behind the words. The isolating feeling people like them felt. “You have to let someone in.” Andrew finished after a moment. 

“I’ve gone 19 years without having to. I can make it another seventy plus.” Neil teased, though there was a lot of truth behind it.

“You let me know how that works for you. Or don’t, I don’t care.” 

“Like it works for you?”

“‘I’m  _ fine _ .’” Andrew mocked. He sat there, silently. Every minute or two passing Neil an analyzing glare. He was waiting for him to talk, and Neil knew it. He waited until they were on their third cigarette to start talking. 

“It was Riko,” He took a steadying breath. Andrew’s eyes rested on him, but Neil wouldn’t meet them. He just stared out at the trees in the distance. “And I was in the Nest. He always sat on me, Jean made sure I didn’t kick out… Jean always complained that it was my fault anyway. Anything that ever happened to him. And Riko always told me I went there willingly. Jean agreed, so....” He shrugged, leaving out a certain string of words, knowing it was a trigger they both shared. “I was still there, but it was Lola and my father. Lola… she never sat on me, but she was too close in the trunk of the car. Saying I looked like my father. She didn’t do anything.” He weighted his words, making sure Andrew didn’t imply more than there was. Lola didn’t do anything, just teased. Neil still hated her implications though. “Then I was on the court, forcing me to play after it all, and he… well in Baltimore, he said he would cut my hamstrings and ankles so I couldn’t run. In the dream he did...then killed me.” Neil shuttered when he remembered the dream. “I didn’t mean to wake in a panic. From the dream, to the weight of people, and the people that surrounded me… It sometimes feels like they’re still there. Someone on my chest, the cuffs, knives.” Neil’s voice was full of self-hatred at the lack of control he had over his own mind. Andrew took a few more breaths in of his cigarette, and Neil was content to watch the orange glow. He was almost surprised when Andrew spoke. Maybe this was a truth for truth.

“It never happened again, not after I went to Juvie. Well, except in Luther’s house. I used to wake up as you had. I don’t anymore, not as severely, even if its abruptly.” Neil knew that was probably all he was gonna get out of Andrew. He also knew Andrew understood. He understood the feeling of waking up expecting pain, and how hard it was to get rid of it. Maybe it never went away, but he was glad for the hope that it lessened as time passed. 

They stayed up there. After the fourth cigarette, they had stopped smoking. But they still sat there together and watched the sunrise. 


End file.
